I had an interview at the end of the day in the French Concession and got stuck in traffic heading back to Jing'an, allowing plenty of time for my old lady taxi driver to give me the third degree on just about everything. Before we'd even passed the elevated highway she'd gleaned enough to express shock and consternation that my sixty-something-year-old mother could still be raising two teenage boys and she also let me know that if I'm dating a guy he should really already own a house. I got a special kick out of this part:
Driver: What does your boyfriend do?
Me: He's a ... [I botch "designer"]
Driver: What?
Me: He paints advertisements.
Driver: Ah, I understand. How's his salary?
Me: Yeah, okay.
Drive: How much does he make in a month?
Me: Ah! I won't say.
Driver: Does he give you money?
Me: No, I make my own money!
Driver: But if he lives with you he should really give you money.
Me: Hmm, I like how you think.
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